


Capsicle

by CaptLrock



Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Captain America, Marvel, Winter Soldier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate reality but not drastically, Betrayal, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Capsicle, Daredevil will show up guys just because, First story, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Bucky, Hurt Steve, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Throwback, bucky saved, captain america the first avenger - Freeform, out of time capsicle, steve on the run, winter soldier saved by sheild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-07-27 07:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16214417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptLrock/pseuds/CaptLrock
Summary: Steve Rogers thought the plane crash would be the end. He though Peggy would be the last soul he would speak to. But Steve wakes up in 2011 only to find out a devistating fact about his greatest friend. Trying to adjust to the 2000s would be hard enough but now it has become practically impossible.(I’m majorly editing this story)





	1. Deep in sleep

**Author's Note:**

> So I am reposting chapters from fanfiction.net. That is where it all started. It's been my dream to be on here and now it is finally happening. I hope you enjoy the first chapter! Feel free to give me feedback. More chapters will be coming within the week.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff ensues and things happen

Chapter Text  
Chapter 1  
Panic

Terror

Cold

This all washed over the Captain faster than you could say, well almost anything. He was scared, to say the least. As soon as Captain Rogers decided to crash the bomb-filled plane he knew it would be a one-way trip.  
Of course, he had been scared before he made the decision, but he would not have let the woman over the crackling radio know that. His Peggy had to remember him as brave.  
-0-0-

Those were the last thoughts that crossed his mind as The plane's course careened into the icy ocean. Yes, it was to save the world, but at what cost?  
-0-0-

Sounds. There were sounds.

Birds maybe?

No, he was in the ocean alright.

He should hear water.

WAIT NO! Death was silent. He was supposed to be dead. There is no sound when you are dead. There... but why was there a game? A radio? The whipping sound as a baseball meets a bat. Home run in the making by the sounds of it. Ever so slightly he cracked his eyes open. In doing so he was met with an onslaught of bright light.

What was happening! Is this heaven!? No, heaven wouldn't have baseball! Wait, no. would it? Heavenly baseball? 

He closed his eyes once more.  
Opening them once more would be an unbearable chore, the chore relating to finding out reality of his situation, whatever that may be. Captain Steve Rogers couldn't decide if it would be a pro or a con to know he was alive. Even if the war was over, he had chosen a hero's death. He had chosen it. A pain deep in his gut emanated through his body. A choice. Now the consequences would have to be met

At this point, Peggy would have scolded his self righteous attitude with a string of insults attached. Good old Peggy.

PEGGY!

He had to see PEGGY! She would know what to do. She would have all the answers.

At this, he jumped out of the comfortable bed. He had not slept in a comfortable bed since he joined the war effort. The same war that could still be raging outside his comfortable little hospital room. If it even was a hospital at all. He registered his surroundings quickly just like the soldier he was. Under him was a small, simple hospital bed. The walls were a light blue accompanied by white curtains strewn up around the open window. Beside the window was a small desk with a radio playing that game. The game. The game with the home run maker. He listened closely to it, picking up every nuance from the announcer.

... that game. He knew this game. He'd gone to it with Buck.The tickets had been a birthday present for him; he had been so shocked. But wait. The game.... How was it playing? Standing still for a few moments, Steve absorbed the signs laid before him, trying to come up with a way to understand. Then the lack of noise struck him as strange. Had hospitals and technology advanced this much?.  
  
HE HAD TO SEE PEGGY! Then the world would make sense.  
At the same moment, Steve's sensitive ears seemed to perk up at the sound of light clicking from the door knob and it creaked open, revealing a young nurse. Her curly brown hair lightly bounced as she came to an abrupt surprised hault at seeing Steve wide awake and standing up. She was in what looked to be a standard nurse uniform, but something was off. The radio. The lack of screaming there might normally be in a hospital.  
And how did they find him? He had been who knows where crashing a plane of destructive bombs. Before the girl hastily closed the door he caught a slight glimpse of a portly structured hallway.  


"How Are we doing Mr. Uh" She started down at the clipboard in her hands, very obviously acting as if she was frazzled, " Mr. Rogers," She asked triumphantly after finding his name on her so-called patients clipboard. There was no doubt she was faking. It was more than clear.  
Ignoring her question, he stepped closer to her and growled as low as possible "Who are you?"

"I am afraid I don't know what you mean. I'm just the station nurse-" She started, clearly trying to keep her composure. Before she could finish, Steve had already made up his mind.

"This game, I was at this game." he began, as he took a step closer to her. Her hands were differing nervously."This is the game from 1929. Home run on the first man up to bat." Her eyes darted around the room meeting back at his. He locked his gaze onto her, taking another step forward. "Now I'm going to ask one more time. Who. Are. You." That's when he noticed her left hand viciously pushing a small device in her hand. That's when he ran. Knowing he could break through the wall, he smashed through it, leaving behind the fake hospital room. Steve had known it was game, but he wasn't expecting to be met with the massive room surrounding him. Double doors were a few paces ahead. He smashed through them slightly slipping, as he was led into a futuristic hallway. People littered the walkway but cleared out of the way as soon as they saw him hurtling towards them. They weren't fighting back, but that didn't mean they weren't his enemies. And he had spoken to soon. A few select people snatched weapons from holsters buckled to their waists. 

It was truly one his worst fears come true. His worst fear that he had dared not to bring to mind. IT WAS HYDRA. THESE WERE AGENTS. DEADLY AGENTS. Holy smokes, this was bad. Continuing to run, Steve forced himself outside which was through another pair of double doors. He had stopped taking account of his surroundings at this point of his escape. Horrid sounds of honking horns and noisey cars reached his ears. He ran through streets and people until he couldn't. Not because he wasn't physically equipped but because surrounding him were 4 black cars. He stared at them, then he swung his head up and around him. 

Once again a realization smacked him. It smacked him so hard that the world began to spin and spin. Steve didn't think he would recover with enough oxygen to fill his lungs as he watched the scene laid before him. Surrounding him were massive skyscrapers filled with colorful boxes, all of them playing a kind of movie but in color. Some with people, others with cars or toothpaste or what looked Like Coca-Cola. Well, at least something was familiar. But nonetheless, the fact that things where familiar and so unfamiliar was engrossing him. His breath picked up like when he had had asthma, leaving him breathless.

He was supposed to be dead. Not... not here ...

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, the pressure on his head chest increased and he grabbed his hair in horror. So distracted by the scenery, Steve hadn't noticed the dozens of men that now surrounded him.  
No. No! No more guns. He had had his share of guns! No guns. No more fighting. He didn't want to fight. His breathing picked up again. Getting faster and faster. Then it was fight or flight. The adrenaline had kicked in. 

No more mister scaredy-cat. Steve, get a hold of yourself! You're a soldier! Then what he saw next, before he Had time to react, was a tall black man with a coal black pirate patch over one of his eyes, and an obsidian coat to match it.  
"Stand down, soldier," The man ordered. Steve stepped forward to attack with the new found energy, but he found that he had turned too much, seeing as he was now close to falling forward. His previous pep talk to himself had fleed his mind and he was met with the same terror and panic he had when he had crashed that plane. The man must have anticipated what he was about to do next because he caught Steve before he could topple to the ground. Consciousness left the great captain when the fear was finally too much for him.  


-0-0-0-you get it, this is a line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have read this story before you might notice it's not so badly littered with as many errors. I'm really trying my best to clean up the story.


	2. The one about Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one about our son Bucky.

Bucky stared into his best friend's eyes. Just as Steve was tearing up he was as well. He should be bawling right now, crying his eyes out. He was helpless, there was no hope for him, yet there was a slight calmness in his demeanor. He held on tightly to the side of the freight train but it was no use. His hold was slipping even with his grip so tight it was making his knuckles match the snow smacking against him.  
"Bucky!" Steve began, his voice breaking slightly, "Grab my hand!" Bucky leveraged his weight reaching out for his friend's groping limb. There was a glimmer of hope in Buck's mind but also a deep sense of truth to his situation. The distribution of his weight on the handle meant for only a moments worth of grabbing onto, if any. He would definitely have jostled something, whether that be its all out strength or the ways it was placed on the side of the door. Even as he felt the handle begin to slide a part of his brain still refused to accept the truth. He stretched his arm until it couldn’t stretch anymore, as one second stretched into a billion. It was futile; Barnes knew this. As the last supports of the door broke away, he let out a desperate cry same as his "rescuer". He still reached out, hoping Steve would somehow miraculously learn how to fly or something. I mean, he went from a scrawny kid to a hulking man. Would flight be so insane?  
Pounding wind beat against the soldier's back as he fell faster and faster. Farther and farther down. No escape. No hope. No-  
His body violently collided with the side of the cliff and onto a small ledge. A searing pain cut through his left arm. Hope!!! The ledge. A safety. But the safety got to his head. He basked in his luckiness as a delerious laugh escaped his lips. He had only laid still for a split second to long. Maybe if he moved sooner, or if it hadn't snowed that day, or if he wasn’t so tired, maybe, just maybe he could have been safe. But none of the "ifs" in the world could have stopped him from sliding down that cliff ledge.  
Bucky cried out once more with the sudden realization, clambering for anything that could stop him from sliding. He scrambled, commanding him arms to grab onto support. His right arm responded. Not his left. His eyes widened and he let out a pained scream as he resumed his previous falling; at this point death would be a blessing. Soon enough, a form of Bucky's wish was granted and he slammed into the ground, the last bit of consciousness leaving him.  
It was short lived, and soon enough he was blearily staring up into a white sky. He thought it was hell for a moment because of the stabbing pain that was occurring, but sadly it was only a downpour of snow creating the pain. The blaring white littered his vision as they rushed to meet his face. He couldn’t stay here. Rolling onto his stomach, Bucky let out horrible groan. He had to get help. "Steve......" he groaned reaching out with his arm. But once again only one arm responded. He stared at his left side and watched as a red liquid seaped from the stud that was his arm.... or lack of arm. He let out a shout of pain. But it didn't quite click that he didn't have two arms anymore. He fixed his eyes back on his right arm trying to get it to propell him further. Only making it a few inches, he was depleted of energy. Why was he still alive? The fall should have killed him. This was impossible.  
Helplessly he laid on the snowy ground waiting for anything to happen.  
He began to sputter incoherently as his fate fully sunk in. "Steve... Help... don't... my... why... I need... wha... my... see...I'll ge... buddy... steve..."  
He was going to die here. He would bleed out slowly and then be buried in snow. Closing his eyes. Bucky prayed for it to be quick. Maybe he would die from the cold. Nice, easy hypothermia. Or the blood loss....... and with that he let himself drift off into oblivion. Then only God knows how much longer later Bucky heard voices. He pried his eyes open to see two shadowy figures coming toward him.  
"Help..."he whispered. His salvation was here. Why was the world so fruitlessly giving hope to him? But still even that small hope kindled the flame for safety once more. He would go home to America and live out the rest of his days peacefully with a sweet gal. Maybe a nurse would fall in love with him in the hospital and he would charm her from his bed. They would marry the minute he recovered. Maybe her name would be Clarice......or Jolene. Jolene; he liked that. "Help..."  
"That's him!" One of the figures yelled, the thick accent that laced his voice didn't quite register in Buck's mind. He would see Steve again. Steve would marry Peggy and then he would marry the nurse Jolene. He and Steve would start a business, and their kids would grown up together and become the best of friends. Their families would spend holidays together, and he would have a good life."Help me..."  
"Dumb amerikan." One of them laughed; the insult didn't quite reach the soldier's ears, though. Instead he was smiling like an idiot thinking about the future. Then they blabbered amongst themselves words that Bucky couldn't figure out the meaning of. They hauled him up by his arm and then his stub. Bucky groaned in pain, not understanding why they where causing him so much grief. He continued his cries of suffering even as they threatened to drag him. They followed through dropping him painfully to the ground. Then it hit him. And just as it hit him, clear as day, his mind put two and two together. These where not American soldiers, or his saviors. These where Germans. Deadly. Germans. Hydra...  
"No..." he whispered before he was back in a vivid haze. Bucky chuckled lightly as his head lolled from side to side. "You freaks are so screwed when Steve comes and gets me."  
"Shut up you idiot!" one of them scolded. Bucky weakly kicked with his legs, trying to get loose, but the men's grips tightened. Bucky continued to babble lightly.  
"Shut up Amerikan!" Bucky continued regardless. With the last warning yelled and ignored, Bucky was clotted in the head once more rendering him ONCE AGAIN unconscious.  
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0  
A bright light shone in his face. This is what awoke him with a violent jerk. Groaning, Bucky tried to get a glimpse of his surroundings. But to no avail.  
"Whe... where am..."  
Bucky tried to sit up but he seemed to be restrained. Tugging against the hard leather holding him down, he began to panic.  
"Hello?" his voice cracked slightly. Clearing his throat Bucky tried again. "Hello," the call came out slurred at the lightly spoken words. His body felt tired. All he wanted was sleep...  
-0-0-0-0-0-0-  
"STEVE!!!! STEVE HELP ME!" He panted between shreiks of pain. "SAVE ME DON'T LET ME..." the pain became to much and he became a mess of hysterical sputtering and gasping tears. Then it stopped and he was left heavily breathing. Then he opened his eyes. There where dozens of hands dancing over his body, passing tools over or washing something or situating a strap or tool. Bucky could only manage light stuttering in response to the commotion. He tried to get a good look at one of the doctors but their faces were all covered. Then one stuck out from the rest, as he was not working on anything but staring directly at him. Bucky locked his gaze on him in response.  
"It's ok, James. Soon you won't even remember this pain. It will be replaced by a glorious purpose for Zola," A thick German voice whispered into his ear. "It's Bucky" he snarled.  
As they continued their work he let out another string of cries. This time he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes to obliviousness. Instead they desperately darted around the room trying to find an escape. Then he saw a silver object lying on a near table. It looked sorta... sorta like an arm. He tried to focus on that. Not the pain... not the pain, but the arm. Its silver plating smoothly laid out. The little star on the shoulder. The fingers laced together perfectly. Perfectly. But why was it here.  
He let out another yelp as the pain kicked in again, stronger this time. The he stared at the origin of the pain. His arm. His was be arm. Then he stared back at the arm on the table.  
Oh gee whiz....  
He watched as a doctor went over and tenderly picked up the prosthetic as though it were an infant.  
"No..." Bucky whispered in the respite from the pain. "No more..." he slurred. There was no response. Maybe they could not hear him. "No, don't, stop..." he watched as they set it next to the stub of his arm. "No..." he whispered, closing his eyes.  
Then the noise again filled the empty space and Bucky's tormented screams came to meet it. Steve would save him. Steve would come get him. Steve would swoop in and it would all be ok......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I know it doesn't make sense right now but the story is coming together. I would post all the chapters at once but I'm trying to carefully edit each and every peice of work. Make sure to leave a review with feedback. I enjoy reading your thoughts.


	3. Wake up, buddy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is told where he is.

Chapter 3 

Groggily, Steve Rogers awoke from his deep slumber. It took him a moment to recollect his memory. Gradually it all came back to him. Everything had happened so fast. He had awoken, ran, and gained the terrifying truth of his current predicament. 

Surveying his area, he noticed a simple room, luckily holding no resemblance to the horrid imitation of a hospital. No more sugarcoating it. He was lying on a comfortable bed with a thick blanket strewn over him. He sat up groggily, slipping out from under the cottony sheets. He rubbed his sore neck, rolling it out before standing up. He set his hands on his hips in contemplation for his next move. He fixed his gaze on the ceiling, letting out a long sigh. 

Suddenly a door opened opposite of him. Startled, he bounced back slightly. He jammed his eyes shut for a moment so he could compose himself. Why was he so scared anyway!? \---------------------------

Nick Fury stared at the young man, slightly impressed that he had already recovered from the events of the evening. It was amazing how someone could be frozen for 70 years, yet still be able to instantly stand, walk, and talk like any normal person. But there was the factor of being a genetically modified science experiment.

Nick shuffled over to the man, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"You have no idea where you are, do you?" Nick asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.  
“That sure would be an understatement, Sir,” he replied, letting a light chuckle pass his lips. Nick nodded, a smile creeping across his face. "Let's just say you’re not in the 1940's anymore." 

"How long?" 

"70 years" Nick replied. Any hint of humor previously on his was was masked by unspeakable horror. He drew his expression toward a wall adjacent to himself. Closing his eyes he straightened his stance slightly. 

In a shuddering breath, Steve said barely above a whisper,"I think I need a moment, sir." 

"When you are ready, we can talk." With that Nick left. 

He strode down a long hallway in the classified S.H.E.I.L.D compound, past many offices and sleeping quarters. After about 2 minutes he reached an important room. When he entered the room was pitch black. Snapping on the light, he could clearly see the plain bedroom in which a sleeping form lay opposite from the door. There was a steady rise and fall of a chest under the covers. 

Nick walked over to the bed. 

"Agent," Nick Fury addressed the sleeping form. 

"What?" the man hissed from under the covers.

"Agent, get up" Nicky Fury scoffed. "I told you we needed to talk."

The form sat up from the bed and glared at Fury. It was none other than James Buchanan Barnes. 

James took a breath, "Sorry, sir. I just got back from a very stressful mission." Deadpanning, the agent continued, after mockingly 'fixing' his hair and straightening his shirt. "So, what did you need to speak with me about?" 

"Just meet me in the conference room later, agent," Nick scolded, out of patience from the sarcastic young man.  
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Steve had been told to wait in the room to the right of his sleeping quaters. It had now been six minutes; six minutes and one second, six minutes and 2 seconds. Finally Nick Fury entered. He closed the door behind him and sat down across from Steve, folding his hands in front of him. 

"It's 2011, Steve," Nick Fury stated. Steve nodded. "You are in a remote compound in New York. And we are going to catch you up with all the technology. I have a special agent laid out for you. He will teach you about the technology, mannerisms and “fashions” of today's era. Then you will have the choice to continue serving your country as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, or you slide into the general population to live out the rest of your days in peace."

"Am I allowed to leave... now?" 

"Sorry son, but we have to keep you here by law. You don't have an identity anymore, and you would be illegally walking the streets of America."

"Oh... how long until I can leave?" 

"A few months at least. Here..." he reached into a bag and handed him a flat surfaced object.

"What's this?"

"It's an S tablet. You can use it to check the weather, see maps of the compound and the listed schedule. But you won't be able to have access to the internet." 

"Um... ok?" 

"Oh sorry... it's a sort of the “library of the future.” You have access to almost everywhere, except for private rooms and classified meeting rooms. Everything will be marked on the tablet." He demonstrated how it worked before sending him back to his room telling him to get some more sleep, and that he would be back in a few hours. So Steve crawled into his bed, setting the strange device on his bedside table. He tried to sleep but it was hopeless. In the end, after a few hours of tossing and turning, he ended up blankly staring at a wall.

\- [ ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm trying to go more in depth if you've read the original from fan fiction.net. I'm trying to edit each chapter and I'm trying to make it more detailed so the pieces of the story fit together better.


	4. The red spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Bucky is a little rebellious and Black Widow is so done with her average Tuesday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you might be confused I changed the way Bucky perceives himself after the first conditioning to show how the humanity was ripped from his very soul. So instead of saying him or Bucky I say it and asset, soldier, etc. Anyway..... enjoy! This took me forever to edit from the original.

Chapter 4  
Bucky sat in his cell with a deep scowl on his face. After going through emense pain he still felt slightly foggy and completely out of comission. Once he figured out where he was, he made an internal decision to make things as difficult as possible for all of Hydra. Whatever they where planning to do to him wasn't happening. Staring down at his hands he noticed once more the shock of not seeing flesh on both arms. The metal arm... well, it disgusted him. It made him feel like a pet of Hydra, although it was definitely nicer than a normal prosthetic from the U.S. Army. He had full mobility and it made a soothing sound. Metal mixed with echos made a sort of music to distract him from the remaining pain. 

Holding his side, he tenderly pressed on the part that was making him feel sick.  
A part of his rebellion was refusing to eat. This way he would be weak so he wouldn't be able to preform as well as they wanted him to and he could just die. He was still praying that Steve would find him, though. The agency should at least be searching for his body, and when they didn't find it Steve would come get him. This was the only thing that fueled him to keep on going. So he rotted in his jail cell, with only one hope.=

Steve.

Bucky chuckled at the thought.

It was ironic. Of all people, Steve was chosen to become a super soldier. The scrawny 20 year old with a truck load of diseases was cherry picked from the masses to become a symbol for America. Bucky was the on who always had to save Steve from practically everything. Anything from a bully to a mangy diseased cat; he would be there to save his friend. Till the end of the line. 

A clink from the cell door alerted him that a guard had come to bring him food. He watched as a tray was slid under the door and then replaced with another fresh tray of food. It could hardly be called food, and that was another reason he was starving himself. Rubbing his face, he tried to wash away the sleepiness. He hadn't had a shower for who knows long, and he had stubble like a hobo with growing out hair. It disgusted him, having his hair too long. Not being able to see clearly, he stared at the door. This time something was different. He hadn't heard the man methodically stomping down the corridor yet. He must still be standing there. 

Then there was a slam against the door like knocking. 

"Amerikan, I suggest you eat! You do not want to go into treatment with an empty stomach."

Like the little rebel that he was, Bucky slumped down further to the ground and frowned in answer.

"You have two minutes to eat until I take you to Doctor Zola."

Still Bucky sat on the ground unresponsive, moving his metal fingers to drum a rhythm. And then of course 2 minutes later he stormed into the room, hauled Bucky to his feet, or at least tried to, and more or less dragged Bucky to wherever they were going. He was shoved through a doorway and forced onto his knees in a dark room just like the rest he had seen during his imprisonment. Although this one had a chair and a series of tubing, wires, and kneedles. There were a dozen people rushing around with masks on there faces and white lab coats. They where all either cleaning somthing, mixing ingredients, or doing science jumbo jumbo that he couldn't understand.

"Don't treat out guest with such direspekt," one man stated, removing his mask while he addressed the soldiers. Then he urged his gaze down to Bucky. "Now, James, can you cooperate or are you going to make things difficult?"

"It's Bucky," he whispered.

"What's that?" 

"It's Bucky," he hissed, glaring up at the man.

"Well it no longer matters, does it, James," he emphasized the last part just to fuel Bucky's anger. "Put him in the hot seat, men."  
With that Bucky was hauled from the ground and shoved into the seat. The last thing he could remeber was screaming his head off for Steve to save him.  
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

1947  
Zola

The asset has completed another mission. He is doing well with responding to the conditioning. He suspects nothing of his previous life. I have no doubt he will respond well to all treatment.  
His physical condition is nearly back to perfect from after his refusal to eat. We will now be officially putting him under sedation between missions. You can never be too careful with projects like this.

He seems to act well, but you can never be too careful.

Heil hydra  
-0-0-0-0-  
It could feel the blood dripping from its flesh hand. The liquid seeping into his black leather-bound clothing. It sat in its cell trying to remember how it got there and what the red stuff was. It dripped precariously from his body onto the ground with a pitter patter. It moved its inhuman arm to a rythym to match it and it soothed its confused muddled senses. Closing its eyes, it tried despretly to find peace. The only thing it could remember was one name. Stewart... Stanley. Wait, no... Steve. Steve was the name. Altough it didn't quite know what it was connected to. Was it a food? Or maybe it was a target for his mission. 

The quiet contemplation was interrupted by his jail door swinging open with a horrible screech.  
"Get up!" the man ordered from the door. With a grimace, it continued to sit on the ground as though it pained it to disobey. "Get up!" This time the words entered its ears and it couldn't help but comply. But why? Why did he have to follow orders? Brushing the awkward long hair out of his face, it began to follow the armed soldier to a room it slightly remembered. In the room were a few doctors all waiting patiently for him. Knowing what to do, it sat down in the chair and let them do their work. The whole time he had a deep frown displayed on his features. Once they finished whatever they had been doing, they hauled it up from the chair and directed it to walk into a small space. When it was inside, an icy coolness surrounded it, and the last thing it remembered was despretly banging on the closed door, yelling for Steve.  
-0-0-9-9-9-

 

1953

Zola

This is officially the first time we have woken the asset up from animated suspension for a mission. The asset began to attack my men but they soon had him back under Hydra's control. I knew it was a good idea to sedate him between missions. This keeps him from having too much time to contemplate who he is. 

I have high hopes for the asset that it will preform perfectly from now on. It will know its place after being brought back under control.

Heil Hydra  
-0-0-0-0-  
The violent process continued for years and all that Bucky could do was sit back and watch himself preform cruel acts. He could no longer place who he was or where he was. All he knew was Hydra. And the faintest memory of sky blue eyes.  
-0-0-0-0-  
1969  
Zola

We had to wake up the asset once again for a mission. This time it put up very little struggle while being woken up. It preformed near perfectly. Nothing else needs to be stated. I have confidence in this project.

Heil Hydra  
-0-0-0-0-  
2009

The asset's eyes creaked open. It felt strange. But it always felt this way when this happend. It was time for another mission. Knowing this fact, it didn't put up a struggle. Although half of his- its mind seemed to be screaming. It let itself be dressed and readied by the strangers around it. The Winter Soldier knew their was no point in trying to avoid the inevitable, short conditioning session to make sure its loyalty was true. It was a sort of routine the soldier had fallen into.  
Wake up.  
Readied.  
Conditioned.  
Ordered.  
Dropped off.  
Kill target.  
Return.  
Put under.  
Repeat.  
It had long since forgotten anything else but this routine.  
After a few hours of a tedious conditioning session, the asset was taken to a room. Being sat down in a seat, it was left sitting quietly in the dark office room. The silence was soon broken by the clicking of heels and then a door opening. They skipped the pleasantries and immediately began speaking to the soldier as if this thing was just there to do their bidding; that was exactly what the Winter Soldier was there for.

"Winter Soldier, here is your mission..." It listened intently, knowing that if it didn't it would be severely punished. It knew it was supposed to go to Iran to take down a scientist working on nuclear technology. Why? The Winter Soldier didn't know why, but it knew not to question orders. In a meaningless blur he was soon on a plane headed straight to Iran.

 

"Your target is in a car driving through these cliffed areas," an unknown Hydra agent directed the Winter Soldier as they pointed at a screen on the plane's interior wall. "You are to kill anyone that gets in the way of your target." 

"Affirmative." 

"We are at the drop off zone," a speaker sounded through the plane. The bulky mass circled in the sky while the asset secured its parachute to jump out of the plane. Soon enough it was prepared and the door was opened for the black-clad agent to jump out.

Rushing air met the soldier's face, reminding it of an experience it couldn't quite place. It became a little shaken. Brushing off the unwanted thought, the ground soon came close. The parachute was just for emergencies; it wasn't there to waste precious materials of Hydra. All of a sudden something made him feel strange and a memory flashed into his brain. There he was staring into a blond man's eyes as he fell. Like with a parachute. Shaking his head, it was now ready to do its mission.

Landing to the ground with a thud, the Winter Soldier removed its parachute with ease and began the trek toward the targets soon-to-be location. Soon the Winter Soldier reached a road. It was a quiet area, no cars anywhere in sight. It set up its equipment on a high perch, preparing for the car to veer around the corner. 

Not even 10 minutes later a black car rounded the corner.  
The soldier readied the gun to fire at the tires.  
3 2 1  
BANG  
-0-0-0-0-0  
Natasha Romanoff pulled the steering wheel of the car as they traveled on the deadly quiet street. The only sound heard was the echoing of the car's engine. Here she was escorting this man out of Iraq. Apprently S.H.E.I.L.D needed him for something. She didn't know and she sure didn't really care. Her job wasn't to ask questions, at least for some things. That was fine with her; this felt more like a chore than a mission at this point. Glancing to her right she eyed the scientist. He was nervously fidgeting with a brief case laid on his lap. 

Once again she turned the steering wheel to the right so she wouldn't fly off the cliffed road.  
("So?") she asked in Arabic, ("you come from around here?") Natasha could care less about this man's history but she felt a sort of pity within herself. Somewhere deep down in her darkened there was sympathy. She raised an eyebrow at him for a moment then turned her eyes back to the road.

("Um, no, I... I'm actually from Germany,") he stuttered slightly as he replied.

("That's-") Natasha was rudely cut off by the ringing explosion of a gunshot. Only seconds later the car sped out from her control as the tire popped. The man let out a shriek as they spun near to the edge. When they were nearest to the edge, the car violently flipped, leaving half the car on the road and the other half hanging off the side. 

There they where suspended, upside down, and the only thing holding them upright was their seat belts. Natasha, however, was unfazed by this incidence. This was her average Tuesday. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she fell elegantly from the seat to the top of the car. To the top because again, the car was flipped over

She maunuvered the door open and crept out, being careful to stay crouched as she emerged. Clearly she and her scientist companion were in danger. She unholstered the small hand gun that rested on her hip and brought it close to her chest. Sneaking around the car, she surveyed the area. Nothing seemed to be in sight until she saw the glint of metal in the sunlight. 

She moved her eyeline in the direction of where the glint came from. On top of the hill that the road had been carved into crouched a man. He was fitted with a black outfit. His face was obscured with long dark hair and a obsidian coal mask. He laid on the ground with a sniper rifle sitting next to him. He was clearly decked out in weaponry that Natasha was very familiar with. 

Without a second thought she brought the gun to aim and began to shoot. Of course he rolled out of the way from the line of bullets. Natasha brought her gun back to her chest and continued around the car to the scientist. Swiftly she opened the door and unbuckled the man. He unmannerly plopped from the chair onto the ceiling of the car. Scrambling out, he scrambled to hide behind Natasha.

Natasha couldn't blame the man. Men could be very scared things. The sarcastic side always got the best of her in situation like this. She then brushed it off and geared her brain back into action.

("Stay behind me!") Natasha snapped, already knowing he wouldn't object.

A few moments later she saw the figure from the hill jump down the precipice and land gracefully on the cement of the two-laned road. He carried automatic weaponry and was making his way over to her, the girl with a little pistol. This was not some hotshot robber trying to make a buck; this was a first class assasin. She held her gun at the ready. All she had to do was disarm the guy and then the fight would be hers. He would go down easy. She had this. Grinning to herself, she sprang into action and began to shoot her gun with purpose to save bullets. 

The man stepped out of the way, still walking toward her at a slow pace, blocking only a few of the bullets with his left arm, the one that glimmered in the sunlight. This was weird. She still had this though, but new tactics where in order. She would let him attack. And she would take the defensive.

 

The assasin was a few feet from her. He stared at her; his body showed a menacing assassin but his eyes were reminiscent of fear and regret. He kept staring at her, not making a move, just staring. Like statues, they stayed dead still. Staying like this for a few moments, Natasha finally decided that if he wasn't going to move, she would. 

She ran at him and before he react she flipped over him and kicked his legs out from under him. Losing balance, he toppled over. 

Quickly he regained his balance and was back on his feet facing her. This was the first assasin she had met that didn't try to kill her instantly. Maybe there was a glitch in his program. She shot at him once more. Dodging the bullets again, he succeeded in the action, until one of the bullets scathed his side. He hardly seemed to notice because he showed no sign of reaction. Then he shot at her. Now it was her turn to dodge. She flipped away from the bullets, going into a back handspring, then to a flip and right into another flip. She brought her flips close enough to the assassin that she succeeded in kicking him in the jaw. 

His head jerked back slightly and he took a few steps back to regain balance. Before he could fully recover, Natasha was back on him with a few more punches and kicks. She then slid between his legs and shot his right leg. Apprently it was a big mistake. Out of the blue the black-clothed figure dropped the gun, not because she had disarmed him, but because he just dropped it!

He then flipped over to her and began forcing swings of punches at her. It was almost as if he was anticipating her moves; he dodged every single one of her violent swings. Continuing to fight, the duo threw one punch after another in complement each other's fighting. Clearly they where equally matched in skill. She thought to soon. Then a swift punch landed against her jaw. 

Holy macarole, that hurt. She was flung back meeting the ground with a violent slide. That would leave a horrid mark for Barton to patch. She was then met with an onslaught of kicking to her stomach. Then the assasin turned and left Natasha to stew in her injuries. She watched as he picked up the machine gun from the ground and made his way over to the car.

Darn it! This was supposed to be her average Tuesday mission! Not her crazy out-of-hand Friday mission. The black figure strode over to the car with ease, gun in hand. Crap, he was going to kill the scientist! She hoisted herself up from the ground despite the pain; she would not fail a mission. Grabbing the extra gun from her boot, she let off a string of gun shots into the man's back. She would never normally use her extra gun unless it was an actual emergency. 

Of course the black outfit the assassin was wearing was bullet proof, but her extra gun had adamantium bullets. This was the same stuff Wolverine's claws were made of, the same stuff Captain America's shield was made of. This was her emergency gun. But this gun had another practical feature as well.

In surprise, the man spun around after being shot four times in the back. He stared at her for a moment then brought his gun to aim at her. He shot it at her for the second time. But this time she had the advantage. Her adversary had been shot 6 times and was shedding blood everywhere. He seemed unmoved by that fact though, but no man, no matter how well trained, could stay conscious after loosing so much blood. She ran at him while simultaneously holstering her extra gun back to her boot. 

She slid between his legs and used her arms to propel herself up to his head. Crossing her legs around his neck, she bagan to hit him repeatedly on the head. This would choke him while bringing concussive blows to his head. He would pass out from one of three things. Blood. Hits. Or choking. 

Then, without warning, he brought his left arm up her and grabbed her neck with great force. He tugged up at her neck, forcing her to be brought up, and then she was suspended by the neck at eye level with him. She took in choking gasps, trying to stay conscious even with the lack of air. She flailed, grabbing at the unsettlingly cold wrist. It felt as cold and hard as metal. Then there it was again, as she stared into his eyes. Sadness. It didn't match with how he was acting. This assassin was like no other. This assassin was truly tormented. Slowly, reality left her, and her eyes began to droop.  
-0-0-0-0-

It stared into the red haired woman's eyes. There was somthing about her that seemed familiar. It made him feel comfortable around her. Safe.

Maybe it was the way she fought, or the way she looked, or maybe it was the way she had smirked before she had charged. She seemed like a shadow from his past, a figment of imagination from another life. But there was nothing else but this. The routine. That was all the Winter Soldier ever knew.

Maybe that was why he didn't attack right away. Maybe that was why he decided not to shoot her, but to fight hand-to-hand. Peg... NO. THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE BUT THIS. The fall had messed with his head. The sky blue eyes and now this. 

The asset let the woman drop from his literal steel grip. She crumpled to the ground. Spinning on its heel, it aimed the gun at the scientist that was still pleading from behind. In Arabic, the man begged on his knees for his life. The assasin could care less. He brought the gun up and  


A loud noise the Winter Soldier couldn't quite place rang through the desolate area. All around it helicopters appeared, one of which landed where he had jumped from earlier. He lowered his gun down to his side and whipped his head around to find out what was happening. About five dozen men hopped out of the helicopters and onto the road, effectively surrounding the assassin.

"Drop the gun!" a speaker dangerously warned. It had already been shot 6 times by that woman and now it was going to face dozens of men who were also highly trained. This time, though, the Winter Soldier would be void of distraction. The assassin still had its weapon and it still had its target. So he raised his gun back up to meet the man's forehead. 

"Put the gun down, or your going to be sorry you didn't." The warning sounded again just as loud as before with a snarky comment for effect. Emotionlessly, it let the gun drop to the ground with a quiet clank. It didn't know why it complied. But it did regardless. The Winter Soldier had confidence that it could win in a gun fight with a knife, even with the injuries it had endured.

Swiftly, the Winter Soldier grabbed a knife from one of its many pockets. Almost as a chain reaction from the motion, dozens of guns cocked back, all aimed at the assassin.

The world seemed to still at that moment. The only noise was the occasional sharp gust of wind and the pattering of the soldier's blood. Standing completely still, everyone seemed to hold their breath for what may happen next. The way the Winter Soldier saw it was: 1, attack and hope for the best, 2, turn around and stab the man to complete the mission, 3, surrender. Surrender was not an option. Hydra could care less if their assassin died. They cared more if it were to leave all the information that it knew to these enemies. Which wasn't much, but it was enough. So the Winter Soldier did what it was trained to do. It charged.  
-0-0-0-0-0-0-


	5. 13 bullets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you thought Bucky was going to win? Ha.

Chapter 5  
2009

Surrender was not an option. So it had done as it had been programmed. Attack.

Lunging toward the injured being, it pulled knifes from its pockets, a sad excuse for a weapon. Usually these knifes would seem primitive, but in the hands of this Hydra soldier, they were extremely deadly. Before it could do any real damage, however, the dozens of guns that had just taken aim fired right at the soldier. 

Dodging about ten of the bullets by jumping into the air and scotching out of the way, it almost made it out without a scratch. The soldier made a grave mistake though, when it jumped one too many times. All at once, seven bullets entered the asset. That made a total of thirteen bullet wounds. 

13  
The Winter Soldier was an enhanced being, but that exceeded his limits. 

With the amount of blood that had already left the soldier and the amount of bullets already inside of it, it could do nothing but crumble to the ground. This had never happened. It had never lost. It...it... shouldn't be falling aslee...  
\---0-0-0-0-0-0-0  
Nick Fury watched as the the crazy man in black sprinted forward with knives in hand. He watched as the man dodged bullets like no man should be able to, and he watched as multiple bullets smacked into him. Crumbling to ground, the man had soon been surrounded by a puddle of blood and then a group of his agent squad.

The day was light and a cool breeze licked the feild leader's features. This had been a lucky catch. Nick had never been one to celebrate, but this surely was something. He had had a suspicion that Hydra would be sending the famed Winter Soldier to kill S.H.I.E.L.D.'s scientist. That's why he had sent the one and only Black Widow to get the job done. When he had received the alert from her emergency adamantium bullet gun he hadn't been surprised. He was not unprepared. With a total of five choppers and thirty men, he had waited in a nearby facility in case things went south. Which they did. 

Fury watched as his team cuffed the mysterious assassin and dragged him toward the mountain side where a helicopter was hovering, waiting for them to load on the guy. Then there was the tedious cleanup that was necessary to keep the event on the low down. A few men went to pick up the Black Widow, who was down for the count. 

From what he could tell, she had put up quite a fight. Only a few of his agents could graze the guy, but it seemed that the Widow had got in a few good punches. 

The greatest news of all was that scientist was alive; a bit shaken, but alive. According to Fury, this mission had been a success. 

It was a good thing that they had established the call gun instead of the comm system. The phone gun, as Agent Coulson called it. It had been designed to be a more secret way of communicating with home base if you needed back up, and so you didn't have to stop mid-fight and talk to someone in order to recieve help. 

With the mission a success and with what they suspected (and Fury knew) was the Winter Soldier, they were loaded and ready to head back to home base.

He knew that the man behind the Winter Soldier was either a lunatic or a tortured soul. But regardless...

He was going to have fun interrogating the guy and finding out for himself.  
-0-0-0-0

Gradually the fiery red head awoke. The first thing she took in was that she was on a helicopter. She had called for backup, so she knew that she was in no danger. This was definitely a S.H.E.L.D. helicopter. She could tell by the nerdy design. Must be Coulson's work. She snickered at the thought.

Even though she was safe and tired as could be, she wouldn't let herself sleep. She had to get up to check out the situation. Natasha Romanoff hated being left out of information. Appreciating having complete control over her situation, she did all she could to get in on the inside scoop. Refusing to sit here like an adolescent child in need of assistance, she decided to get up. Carefully, she sat up, a small amount of pain shooting through her body. She had likely a broken rib and a sprained something. Who knows. It wasn't her focus right now anyway. Standing up from the bed, she made her way across the helicopter to the cockpit.

She hovered over the driver for a few moments and then spoke up.

"Where are we going?" She already knew the answer, but she had to be sure.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. base," the man stated simply.

Requiring no more information, Natasha made her way back to the cot she had been resting on. They had clearly succeeded in the mission. Maybe they had captured the guy. Natasha had heard rumors of a soldier like him in the Cold War. Maybe that really was the Winter Soldier. She slumped slightly as she began to think about the fight. He had dropped the gun as if to even out the fight. Then he had seemed mournful about his actions, like he didn't want to do any of it. But how could such a cold blooded, hard-core assassin act as though he were a hurt child? It could possibly be mind control, but there could have been some voluntary work done.

She would worry about it later. She would probably help with the interrogation anyway; she always did with her missions. Against her will she was soon lolled to sleep by the humming of the helicopter's wings.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

"WHAT THE HECK DO YOU MEAN I CANT INTERROGATE HIM!?" Natasha fumed, stomping her foot as she spoke. She didn't normally lose her cool, but Fury was being even more unreasonable than normal. This was outrageous. HER MISSION. HER INTERROGATION. 

"Calm down, agent" Fury stated in a way that would make grown men shudder. But not Natasha. Natalia Romanova was no man.

"I was in a fight with the guy. He took down my car! Almost took out my guy! I need to help with the interrogation. I fought with him!" She composed herself for a moment. "Sir, I'm the best agent you have. And it was my mission. It was my mission and my fight," Natasha pleaded, trying make Fury see reason. 

"Exactly why you should not be involved, but doing something more worth your time."

Slightly stunned, Natasha replied,"Sir, all due respect, I think this is worth my time; it was a mission assigned to me, so I would like to follow it through to completion." 

"Why are you so stubborn, agent? Fine. You may join me in the interrogation; but I swear if you do something stupid you won't be doing anything like this again any time soon." 

"Thank you, sir," she mock saluted and started down the hallway opposite of Fury.

" Meet me at holding room .08 in 30, agent."

She would be a part of the interrogation. She would figure out just who this guy was, because she needed to be clued in on all the information. And she needed to help the poor guy. First, she wanted to take a shower. Then she would be at Fury's side, lickity split.

But she also had to talk to Barton.  
-0-0-0-0-0-0

Agent Clint Barton was just like any other in the facility. He was assigned missions. He slept in a plain room like the rest of the agents. He ate the same food as them. Shared training sessions. But there was one difference; he was Natasha's friend. Natasha spent most of her free time with Barton, doing everything she could with him. No, they weren't they romantically involved, but they where almost to that point. She always had to shoot menacing glares at nosey agents when they asked too many questions, even when Barton basked in the attention. But they where as close as could be, and she talked to him about everything.

" Barton!" She sang, tapping on his door before swinging it open. "Clint, can I talk to you?"

"'Course Nat, what's plaguing you, my dearest?" He mocked. He was sprawled out on his bed reading a magazine. Natasha plopped down by his side, slapping him in the arm. 

"You're such a jerk!" she laughed. She always felt like she could let her guard down around him. "Anyway, I just got back from a mission..."

"Wow! A mission? Nat!? Really! I didn't know that's why you'd been gone! Man, it's like you work at a government facility where they send you all over the place for your job!"

"Hilarious, Clint." 

"No, really, wait-" he tried, cutting himself off with his own laughter. 

Then Natasha's wrist beeped. "Crap, I'm late. I'll talk to you about this later," she called, jumping from the bed and briskly walking out of the room.


	6. Fallen soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Bucky is easily defeated and Steve tries to be a sneaky ninja.

Chapter 6  
The official time period Captain America woke up was not stated in earlier so I will be moving from the past story to the now story.  
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0  
2011  
Agent James Buchanan Barnes steadily trotted down the hallway. Since he knew the compound very well he didn't need any guidance. It had been two years since he had been taken in by S.H.I.E.L.D. And ever since then he had been half happy and half bored out of his mind. 

They never really sent him on missions due to the panic attacks he sustained from flashbacks, and he still wasn't trusted enough to be entrusted with important information. Since that's what all missions consisted of, he was stuck at desk duty or training duty. So when he had been rudely awoken from his rest by none other than Nick Fury, you would probably guess he would be shocked. Well, since he didn't really do anything, why would the head of the agency come wake him up personally? 

He had just recovered from a violent panic attack after seeing a movie. Was it finding...ring, limo, chirio, maybe memo? One of the character had deeply disturbed him even though it was just a simple movie. Natasha had thought he could handle it. She had been horribly wrong. So the rude awakening had been quite unpleasant for him to endure after the emotionally stressful night.

Rubbing his bleary eyes, he made a few turns and reached the room. The conference room to be more specific. The one Fury had told him to meet him in.

Whoop di doo!

Whatever Fury wanted was probably not worth his time. Although... anything was worth his time at this point. There was nothing to do. Ever. Sure the training sessions and desk duty where filling his time, but he knew the real reason he was still being held in the compound; it was becuase he was a danger to himself and others. Shucks, a simple fork could trigger him to do terrible things.

Entering the room, he was met with a blinding light from the wide windows parallel from himself and a coal black table glistening slightly from the light. Then there at the head of the table sat Fury.

"Sit down, agent," Fury directed, using his hands to signal where he wanted him to sit.

Taking a seat, James slumped slightly, glaring up at Fury defiantly.

"They told me I should sleep it off. " The statement made James dart his vision down at his fidgeting hands.

"Sorry agent, but this is more important. I'm sure you can handle a little bit less sleep than normal" There was a sincerity in his voice, but at the same time a slight hint of annoyance. It wasn't James' fault that he was upset; it was because of the recent occurrences with, well, everything. It was emotionally taxing him.

"I really needed more sleep though, sir..."

Fury grimaced and continued, "Well, I have a task for you, James."

Scoffing, Barnes set his hands on the table and leaned forward. "Like what? You hardly trust me with a butter knife, let alone a task that's... worth while."

"I think it's better if I just show you."

"Well, this should be interesting."  
-0-0-0-0-0-0-  
2009

Thirteen times. Thirteen times this assasin had been shot. This fact stunned Natasha Romanoff as she entered the holding room. And there he was just sitting there as though he were unharmed. Blood slowly dripped from his wounds to the ground in an unnerving pitter patter. The man was just sitting in a metal chair, expressionless and cuffed. He was stilling wearing the black clad uniform, but he had no mask, and apparently only one arm. Without the mask he seemed... there weren't really words for the inhuman expression on his face. But his eyes still held the same expression of regret and sadness that Natasha had seen before. Although now he was just staring at the floor.

The chair he was sitting in was in front of a table. Across from where he sat two more chairs waited, unoccupied. When they entered the room, the previously dangerous man made no movement, but the pitter patter continued to echo. It made a soothing rythym. For some odd reason... Pit...pat...pit...pat. Blood. 

Fury and Natasha settled themselves into the chairs. Natasha felt awkward not knowing what to do. The man continued to shoot his gaze away from the pair. This would not be easy.

"Ok, so here's how this is gonna go," Fury began, slightly overconfident considering the situation. Natasha had a sneaky suspicion that Fury was hiding something. "You are going to answer the questions I ask, or I'm going to release all savagery on your butt. Are we clear?"

The prisoner continued to fixate his gaze on the floor, not responding. It had been worth a try, and they both knew it. That's how they started every interrogation: with fear. This guy had been through some stuff, probably some neurological damage, brainwashing, trauma, and torture. If he really was who Fury said he was, the Winter Soldier, then this would not be their normal protocol. He had briefed her before they had entered, but she hadn't the faintest idea of what they would do with him.

Sooner or later he would need medical attention because of the extensive damage that had been done to him, but this is what S.H.I.E.L.D. always did.  
Capture. Interrogate. Then medical attention. Then back to interrogation if necessary. But this time felt different than normal. A strange different.

 

"Ok, we are going to do it this way?" Fury asked rhetorically. "Your not talking is worse than Tony Stark's ramblings." Natasha turned her gaze from the Winter Soldier to Fury for a moment, her eyes slightly widening. That was one of the most random comments she had ever heard from Fury in a professional setting like this. Unless he knew something that she didn't know. Of course he knew more than her. Nevertheless, he should have briefed her better. She wanted the information too. 

Natasha moved her gaze back and forth from Fury to the man, who was whispering something to himself. What was he saying? 

"Yeah, that's right. Stark, right? You know Stark?" 

"What are you talking about, Fury?" Natasha blunted, confused by the question. "He doesn't know Tony Stark!" She dramatically gestured to him.

Then the Winter Soldier said something she never thought she would hear from the lips of a man like him.

"Howard Stark?" he asked, staring up at the pair of agents. Natasha blankly stared back at him.  
-0-0-0-0-0-0-  
Stark. It knew a Stark, the asset knew a Stark. But there was nothing but the program? Then it answered. No answering! Only comply to Hydra. Against protocol! It's eyes began to dart around the room, searching for an escape. It had to escape. AGAINST PROTOCOL. It's head was spinning. AGAINST PROTOCOL. It's breath became erratic. A car. A remote road. A camera. A woman. A man. Blood. Flying car.  
"Steve never liked the Stark conventions," it mumbled slightly, a phantom slightly tickling at it's thoughts. "He always said the guy was too selfish." Then silence echoed through the dank room. The silence was not long kept. It tried to hold its head in its hands, but when it tried, somthing blocked the movement. He continued to tug. He tugged harder and harder. 

"Yeah, that's right, Stark. Howard Stark, right?" a strange voice questioned. But it was too confused to form a correct response.

"Against protocol," it spoke crisply.

"You met Howard Stark one time. You shot at his car." 

"Fury, what are you doing?" another voice questioned. 

Why were there so many questions? Stop. Stop questioning.

"Against protocol," it demanded, slightly louder than before.

"Come on soldier, you remember everything, don't you? You just dont want to. Howard Stark, you killed him." 

"Fury, what-" the other voice cut in.

"Come on? Don't you remember?"

Its eyes rose toward the voices. One looked familiar. Like... 

"AGAINST PROTOCOL!" it yelled.

"I'm done playing games with you," Fury snapped.

"AGAINST PROTOCOL," it screamed, tugging on the thing that held it back, as it continued screaming.  
-0-0-0-0-0

"Let's go. That's all I needed," Fury stated.

"What in the world just happened!" Natasha snarled, disdain written across her features. "That made absolutely no sense." 

"I'll explain later, agent. Just call for medical attention for the guy." Confused, she stopped in her tracks and watched as Fury continued to walk down the hallway to who knows where. What in the world just happened?

She tapped the comm on her wrist and spoke into it, "We need medics on the prisoner in the holding room... yeah, thirteen bullet wounds... under Fury's orders."

She stood there for a moment catching her bearings. This all seemed vaguely farmiliar from when she had been caught by S.H.I.E.L.D. She did not really know why this all felt so out of place. She should be used to the out of the ordinary life. Shaking off the thoughts, she strode down the hallway in the direction Fury had went. She wanted answers.  
-0-0-0-0-0  
Still 2009 btw  
-0-0-0-0-0  
"What the heck was that!" It had been about two hours since the whole interrogation fiasco, and Natasha was done waiting.

"His name is James Buchanan Barnes, otherwise known as the Winter Soldier," Fury drawled, staring at a screen on the wall with his back to Natasha. "He was an associate with Captain America from WWII, who has been on and off of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar for almost seventy years. He is an agent of Hydra."

"What the heck was that then in the interrogation room? How in the world would he know Howard Stark?"

"Let's just say that was one of the times he was on our radar."

"Ok, but why would you be talking to him about it in there?" Natasha wasn't stupid; she had a feeling that she knew exactly why he brought it up, but she had to hear it from Fury himself.

"Agent, I don't have to remind you what brainwashing does to a person."

"No," Natasha confirmed, downcasting her eyes. She knew all about brainwashing, all kinds of it.

"Then I shouldn't have to explain; you're smart." Fury glanced at her, then returned his gaze back to the screen. "Is that all you needed, agent?"

"No, I have a request." Without letting Fury answer yes or no, she continued, "I want to be close to this case, I want the inside scoop on it. I will help with whatever we decide to do with the Winter Soldier."

"Ag-"

"I will not take no as an answer; I'll just let you mull it over." Grinning, she exited the room; yeah, she would never take no as an answer. She was the Black Widow after all.  
-0-0-0-0-0-  
2011

Steve sat on the bed that had been provided for him. Not that he did not appreciate the bed, he just... it was just too soft. Ever since he had woken from all the stress he had not been able to sleep. He was on high alert. There was no rest for this soldier. No, he had slept for seventy years. That was more than enough sleep.

Steve shivered at the thought of the seventy years, as though the ice would conceal him once again in the vast ocean never to be uncovered. No, never again.

He missed Peggy, he missed Bucky, heck he even missed the jerk of a general. He was now a man out of time. What kind of sick joke was this? Ugh no, he was getting caught in his thoughts again. The only human communication he had experienced so far was the pirate man and that nurse. He didn't like this constant state of uncertainty, and he needed the answers he was so desperately dreading to find out, if that made any sense. Again he found himself not feeling anything like the great Captain America, but like little Steve Rogers. The conversation he had had with Fury calmed him slightly, but the pit in his stomach was still prominent. What was the furure like anyway? He picked up the s.tablet that had been given to him and turned it over in his hands. Then he turned it on like Fury had shown him to do. He swiped on the screen in awe of the amazing advancement. If this was in such a small device, Steve could only imagine what bigger devices could do. Then he felt the pit again, deeper this time. He cowered away from the device, feeling a sudden need for space. He had had enough thinking in the room to last...well, seventy years.

Having a feeling he was not supposed to leave the peaceful tidy room, Steve did not dare leave. But soon curiosity and anxiety took over and he slid off the bed onto his supportive legs that he would never get used to even after a few years of the serum. Slyly, Steve tiptoed over to the door, and as quietly as a possible he maneuvered the door knob to release the mechanism to open the door. Moments later he had successfully sneaked out of the deafeningly quiet room and into a series of maze-like hallways. 

Picking a direction ,Steve began an aimless trek to who knows where. This kept his mind off of all the troubles he was experiencing. Winding left then right then maybe right again he sauntered into a pattern of consistency. The problems of the world seemed to be forgotten, or so he thought for that moment. He felt free, he felt confident, he felt like Steve Rogers, slightly. Running another corner, Steve met the face of a person he never thought he would ever in his wildest dreams see again. If he thought the s.pad was amazing, this was beyond him. His heart halted and time seemed to slow. This was impossible. But he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating. His jaw dropped open in awe at the sight before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said- at the beginning, the two years are 2009 and 2011. 2009 is everything that happend with Bucky and 2011 is everything happening with Steve. I will tie them together soon.


	7. Naps Are best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yah i dont know. Just read the chapter thank you.

Chapter 7

James followed Fury Down the twisting halls for what seemed Like forevever. He was very close to complaining about how tired he was, until they Turned a corner. that's when he witnessed the most uncanny thing to ever be! What was he seeing?! A phantom, a ghost! It couldn't be. Then James fully registered What he was seeing, something he never thought he would see ever again. Or was it........Was It an illusion From how tired he was. Was he haulucinating?! No he wasn't. He knew he wasn't when the figure he was watching came running toward him, and embraced him in a warm hug.

James begrudingingly allowed himself to be hugged. awkwardly he stood with the larger mans arms rapped around his back. Scrunching up his face in discomfort was his first reaction. He couldn't stand being touched anyone. No one should touch him.it was Kinda his thing. 

"Get off me!" James snapped shoving the figure away From himself. The man stepped away, taken aback by the comment; and the man with the hurt confused Look on his face was none other than "captain" Steve Rogers. They shared a looks for a long while, James started into the sky blue eyes that where faigly farmilar in his memories. His memories where all but gone but somtimes he would have Vivien dreams about certain things and the eyes where no exception. How could this be though? A slight surge of rage coursed through he body as they continued to stare at eachother. Why in the world was he here!? Clenching and unclenching his metal fist he began to glare at him , until steve broke the awkaward ice.

"Bu......bucky?" 

Inhaleing deeply James closed his eyes in an attempt to try to relax, at the calling of the name. Its not that the name that angered him, its that the fact that he Said the name that Made his veins boil with red hot rage. In a fit of uncontroled fury, James swung his metal arm towards Steve. He may have hit him in the jaw and in doing so slamming him to the ground, but James was to blindly angry to fully take in account his actions. He abbandonned him. This sad EXCUSE for a soldier pushed him off that........Glaring at the pitiful man on the ground James watched as he attempted to sit up from the floor. 

Then like a ship in a storm descending to the pits of the ocean bottom, it sunk in what he had done. Only a small bit of regret touched his mind. Murmuring a lame apology james stretched his non metal arm to help him up.

"Well thank you for that introduction agent Barnes." Fury deapanned.

Bringing his hand up to his face Steve stared at James in awe. Tears were forming in his eyes and they gently slid down his face. These weren't tears of sadness though they were tears of joy.

James could hardly remember anything before 2009 but he still remembered the "dear" friend of his. Steve? Yes, Steve was his name. But Bucky? His name was James not bucky. It hadn't been Bucky for almost 60 years. Bucky was dead. He died with his left arm. He died in the jail cell that he rotted in.

Except steve Had never come for him! Steve did not HELP.......

"Agent barnes?"  
Oh he must have been Silent for too long. Bringing his gaze up to meet Fury, he asked, already knowing the answer," What is my task now, sir?"

"Oh Barnes you know me to Well." He chuckled. "How about we move From the hallway to a more comfortable Location." 

James looked From steve to Fury then Back to steve, Who was now expressionles with his eyes Downcast.  
\---0-0-0-0-0-0-  
2009  
Natasha sprinted into nick furys office at full speed. 

"Nick!" She yelled with disdain. "Why didn't you notify me he flat lined yesterday! Or anything for a matter of fact. WHY DO I HAVE TO HEAR THESE THINGS SECOND HAND!" 

Staring up at her from his desk he smiled. He never smiled.

"Well as an agent on this case Natasha you should have done thorough research. Or you should have come to talk to me." His face became serious again when he said the next thing. "I thought about it agent and I want to humanize the winter soldier."

"Huh?"

Holding up his hand he continued," I want to make him an agent. I want him to be an asset for my agency but we need to retrain his brain, and since you oh so wanted to assist in this case that is your mission for as long as it takes. Make the winter soldier feel human again." He paused for a moment grabbing somthing from under his desk. "This is everything we know about him you already know he is older than crap, so you can study up from there. You need to know this file front to back. I want you to be with him at all times and help him adjust to world life."

"Sir..... I" she stammered.

"Not what you expected huh?"  
-0-0-0-0-0-  
2011  
"James you remember when you first were taken in by S.H.E.I.L.D.? Right?"

The Brunett nodded.

"And you clearly remember how the black widow was put in charge of you right? She helped you get Back to normal, well as normal as you could manage, She helped you adjust and learn."

James seemed as though he were about to object to Furys premedited statement but He put a hand up to silence the suddenly bold man. 

"Since you knew Steve Rogers i thought It best for you to help him."

James' expression went Cold and bitter as he slowly nodded to the director.

"Am i wrong in assuming that agent?" 

"No Sir." James could only slightly remember his life before this but What he could peice together were glimpses only one Memory was fully intact. The only reason they were able to jog his Memory was Because he did not get Back to processing in time. Even so the memories he Had were still scrappy and they came and left his mind, But one Memory had most always been crystal clear since his awakening.

" Then we'll continue"  
-0--0-0-0-0-0-0 

Steve didnt know how he felt. Was he supposed to be happy? Was he supposed to be nervous. He did he best to stay stoic during the ominously strange meeting. Behind the brave facade there was a nervous kid from Brooklyn who didnt know the slightest idea of what was happening. Was he to be further trained and used by the country? Would he be reeducated and slipped back into society? Was this all a trick and he was merely still in bed dreaming?

No,

This was all real, and truly horrifying. he was almost comforted by the sight of Bucky but, he didnt seem to share the same feeling. But seriously, it was a miracle that he was a alive, but bucky.....how in the world could bucky be around! And why was he soooo....... angry?

He had lost track of the conversation after they had sat down but one comment brought reality hurling back down upon him.

"Why should I have to babysit the great Captain if there are 1000s of other agents who would line up to do so! You could even get-"

"This is not a debate, it's not like you will be doing it alone, agent Romanoff and Barton will always be around."

"But-"

"End. Of. Discussion. you always complain that you have nothing to do, this will give you somthing to occupy your mind."

Bucky, or 'agent'Barnes glared at Steve then exited the room in a frenzied anger.  
-0-0-0-0-0-  
2009  
-0-0-0-0-0-  
As Natasha strode through the compound she stared at her receiving device on her wrist. She was needed in medical bay 4. It had been 3 days since she had interigated the winter solider and "negotiated" with Furry about the terms of who would be dealing with him. For the past 3 days she had been doing research about the winter soldier and prepping for her assignment.

When she reached the room she could hear yelling. Natasha took a moment to listen standing by the doors. Abruptly she was interrupted from her snooping by a doctor storming out of the room with a fresh brooze forming on his cheek. He glared at her as he passed. Rolling her eyes she pulled the door open and was greeted by a struggling frazzled nurse with an previously angry now laxadasical assasin.

The nurse switched her gaze from her work to Natasha then rushed in a few words,"Fury told me to keep him lucid but he was hurting the doctor, I had to um inject him with a heavy drug." She jabbered in a thick accent.

Natasha glanced at the nurse then moved to stand by the man in the bed. He didn't seem to acknowledge her presence until she slumped into the seat beside him and began to take notes on him and his behaviors. Natasha had been to distracted to notice his hand moving in her direction but haulted by the restraints. She didn't really notice it until he began to really struggle and say a name franrically.

"Peggy! Peggy tell them I'm fine! Peggy tell them I'm not crazy. You have to tell them! I've been tryin to tell these wackjob doctors but they ain't listening to sense." He blathered desperately.

Natasha played along. "Its ok... What happend anyway."

His previously desperate expression went blank and into one of confusion. "I don't remember......"

Natasha jotted down a few notes still saying nothing. Then she spoke," I am Natalia Romanovv, but you can call me nat. What's your name?"

"I ....don't ..........rember" he answered gruffly.

"Your name is James."

"James?"

"Yes, James Buchanan Barnes."

"James Buchanan Barnes?" The middle name felt wrong though. It felt to long for him."what do people call me?"

"I don't know" 

"Oh" his voice and expressionread disappointed. "I'm tired" he stated turning on his side away from her.

"I'll leave you alone then." But she didn't leave. Not until his breath even out and his body completely relaxed. Natasha believed people became most vulnerable when they slept and it was important to know what that vulnerability was. And he looked peaceful while he slept.

She jotted in her notebook once again then made her way to the door.

-0-0-0-0-0-  
2011  
James paced down the compound and burst into one of many personal sleeping rooms.

"Nat!" James called into the room, his voice was laced with a groggy gurgle.

"What!" A echoey feminent voice called back.

"Nat I need to talk to you." 

"Barnes you Are going to be the death of me. I'm in the bathroom I just got done showering, I'll be out in a second."

James lowered himself onto the bed and slightly let himself relax. The world seemed to blur out for a few moments. Relaxation was short lived though when Natasha slammed the bathroom door open. James tensed as she walked over to the bed, then relaxed once he grew reaware of his surroundings. Stars, he was exhausted.

She lowered herself on the bed next to Him. She was only clothed with a towel but James could care less. They had become so close over the years that it did not really matter. He let himself lean against her and relax again.

"Hey what's the matter?" Natasha questioned, lifting her fingers to run them through his hair.

"you wouldn't beleive me.." James chuckled.

"C'mon I know you better than anyone here. What's wrong" 

"It's him. He's not dead. He's here." James whispered letting tears slide down his face.  
-0-0-0-0-  
Natasha let James' head rest in her lap. She continued to stoke his soft hair while he cried softly. She was the only one who truly understood James and she was always going to be there for him. It was Rogers of course. She had only seen this reaction from James when Steve Rogers was mentioned. Nightmare after nightmare she had seen him wake up from they were all the same reactions except one. The Steve rogers nightmare. Whenever he did have a night,Are though It would soon enough leave his Memory before he could really understand It. Somtimes after the Rogers nightmare he would be Silent for days. Fury did always want to help with james' memory the best he could, and if Steve was back....... that would mean Furry would....... stars........

The puzzle was coming together even though none of it made sense. Soon james' quiet sobs subsided and were replaced with level breaths. He was asleep. Carefully she lifted his head from her lap and slowly but surely got it onto a pillow. She lifted his legs onto the bed then slid off his shoes. She grabbed a red throw blanket and threw it on top of him. He always looked so peaceful while he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically bucky is horendously confused still about Who he is even after a few Years at Sheild. Also with the Peggy thing that Who he was reminds of when he first fough with her. if There is any confusion feel free to comment and I'll try to Add It to the story! Thanks for readin'


	8. Tread the waters lightly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ya Idk. It took forever I'm sorry. It late, I'm tired. Enjoy.

Chapter 8  
Steve Rogers was perplexed. APPARENTLY his life long friend Hated him. Also he was in the future, and clothes! What happend to them. He needed some Fresh AIR now. His lungs where not filing with enough air and his head was spinning at insane speads. The craziness of the whole thing was lost to the blond. Seriously It all felt wrong. This whole Set up. Something was wrong with this. The kindness of all the agents, the rudeness of bucky, the convienence that this specific agency found him. 

He put the thoughts aside as he sauntered through the base. He Had slightly gotten used to It after director Furry gave him the glowy hand device. It gave him an entire Map of the base. Amazing. The screen reacted too his touch and the luminescent glow of the device allowed the things on the screen to be seen better. Technology was truly amazing.

"Whats next Aliens? Pfffft no Way." He chuckled to himself rubbing his face in weariness. The events of the past few days had worn him out. Staring down at the screen in his hands he tapped it insistently trying to find any new places that he missed exploring. He found none though. He had hoped he could keep himself occupied after the torture session with Bucky that Nicky fury called, catching up with the times. He shook his head disdainfully trying to punch down the horrid feelings in his gut. Bucky hated him and he had made it clear after the first meeting they had yesterday where he had been begrudgingly taught about fashion, hence Steves distaste for the clothing of the 21st century. Why he had to learn about that was a mystery.

Maybe it was to make it easy for Bucky in the first meeting. Steve remembered the meeting like a scar. Bucky had been anxious the entire time scratching head every few seconds and tapping his foot rapidly. Sweat pooled down his brow as his eyes had anxiously darted around the room. Nothing seemed to calm his nerves, as he showed steve the ropes of fashion handing him his new wardrobe. 

It consisted of shirts of every color, including black and grey, then there were pants ranging from jeans, to what bucky identified as sweatpants. Jeans were an interesting item of clothing that Steve still had trouble grasping. Steve had spared Bucky questions though. He was given what was called a sweatshirt too, along an assorted pair of socks to go along with pair of tennis shoes. 

So after jumping into the day, he changed into a blue shirt with a pair of brown pants. He also slipped on the sweatshirt as to keep himself from getting the chills. Sliding on the socks, he grabbed his tablet and left the room. That's when he went to breakfast with the rest of the agents in the shield facility, and received compliments on his outfit. He had earned a little bit of a name with the rumors of who he really was. It was clearly common knowledge who he really was though. 

After the awkward meal with farmiliar strangers, it led to Steve where he was now, anxiously tapping on his tablet trying to busy his mind. 

 

Ensentially he was allowed to Roam anywhere in the base outside and inside, the catch was he could not Go into classified rooms, and he was not allowed to leave the premises. That was Fine by him. It didn't matter anyway. Nothing mattered to Steve right now except for the fact that he would have a second chance to talk with Bucky. From What he understood this was the second of dozens of lessons given to him by Bucky. So if this was another awkwardly silent meeting with only the forced conversation of information being spoken, Steve would have plenty more chances. Also the more he had the lessons the more he would learn. He guessed that was a good thing. 

With a little bit of luck, He would be fighting for america in no time, once again. But, then again, Steve was not quite sure how he felt about that. He Had always wanted more in life. Sure he was thrilled that he got to help with the war effort, but the war only war he knew Had been won........

70 Years ago.

It just didn't seem that appealing to him in the moment. 

Maybe one day he would earn more. A girl, a family, stability, an official home. That seemed so far away though, if ever. Everything was confusing. He wanted the Real story about all this. This agenceny, Bucky, Nick Furry. What was all this anyway? He still only knew a skeletal amount of information about the facility in which he inhabited and the people within it.

His mind was snapped back into reality when he reached the facility where the days lesson would take place.

Entering the facility There was nothing terribly prominent, There were a few machines that steve Couldn't fathom how they worked. There were a few other things that didn't even seem recognizable. There were thankfully a few things that seemed farmiliar. A whieght lifting set? Was that..... So Maybe today That's What he would be learning. Steve eyes searched the room for more details. If was a massive room with a towering ceiling. Lights where strewn throughout the room. There where square windows lining most of the wall. They where high up though, and tinted. Very tinted, allowing only a little bit of light into the room, apparently privacy was a priority. 

While he inspected evey corner and detail of the room, his eyes settled on James, who was walking toward him at the moment. Behind him though was a women. Auburn hair was strewn into a ponytail. Her eyes where visible from across the room. The vibrant green showed no emotion though. Her blank expression matched those of the man by her side. When they reached eachother they stood silently.

The women nudged James in the side. Shooting her a dirty look he gritted his teeth as he begrudgingly spoke. 

"Steve." James greeted, deprecation hidden in a mask. He just wanted it to be over. That stung. 

"James." Steve sheepishly smiled back. "And, um.... who is this?"

"I'm Natasha," her dead eyes suddenly lit up with light. Emotion flooded into her features as a genuine smile complimented her rosey cheeks. And golly her teeth were white. It only excentuated her beauty. "I'll be joining you boys for today's lesson."

Steve was infatuated by her gorgeous look. From her sharp nose and her freckled cheeks, with a hint of blush. Her demeanor reminded her of...... Peggy. Confidence exuded from her stance. Her smile spoke volume. Each movement had purpose. Like Peggy. A women on a mission.

He must not have spoken for too long because Natasha cleared her throat. Steve was shaken from his haze. "Oh, ya ma'am, that's fine by me."

Natasha nudged James again. He seemed to snap out of a daze as well. Almost imeadiatly though he broke into an anxious sweat. His voice teembled when he spoke.

"I'm gonna teach you how to use the equipment." He informed, barely above a whisper.

"Wonderful." Natasha clapped her hands as she began to walk to the first machine. James followed ducking his head and folding his hand behind his back. 

James rose a shaking hand directing it at one of the machines. "This..... this.... this is a treadmill." A choked sound escaped his throat in the last word. He scratched his head anxiously, and shuffled his feet. His eyes darted from the ceiling, to Steve, to the door. Natasha seemed to pick up on his angst, becuase she continued from where he left off.  
"This is what you will use to exercise to run on." She stepped up on to the track looking sheet. Gesturing to a button on the surface of a propped up part of the machine , she directed him to a specific one. "This is the power button."

Steve nodded. She tapped it then the track began to move. First at a slow pace. "You can press these to make it go faster." She tapped the fourth button in the row of buttons. "Although I'm sure you can run much faster then any of these buttons can push the treadmill to."

James scoffed at that statement.

Like knives, it cut deeper then any dagger could possibly accomplish.

Steve downcast his eyes until he was ordered by Natasha to try. He gripped the concept quickly though. Soon he was at a descent pace. Natasha was teaching him a few nuances.  
Then a question popped into Steves mind. 

"Why can't I just run outside." Natasha stared at him blankly. 

That's when James bolted from the room 

"If you'll excuse me." He words were hushed as she sprinted after him. Steve helplessly watched as the pair retreated from the massive room. 

"Wait...... I..... don't know how to turn it off....." he trailed off as he began to panic. He didn't want to leave it running. He had to follow though. Or did he. He stopped paying attention to his footing for one second, that's when he tripped. The track flung him across the room. He slammed into another peice of equipment. He let out a soft grunt.  
-0-0-0-0  
Steve sighed with relief when he finally reached his quarters. Geez. The new world is crazy difficult. He quickly showered, dressed and flopped down on his bed. He stared at the flashy numbered clock on his bedside table, it read 6:31. Almost time for dinner. The light pad Furry had given him also had the schedule for S.H.E.I.L.D meals. It was the only human contact he had really had with strangers for the past week. Well except for Natasha and buc- James. Everyone was so welcoming but.... what they talked about was strange. Modern movies? He heard a group of young men talking about a movie called the Space battle, wait no Star battle, cosmic wars. That must be a crazy modern movie. Well at least from what he heard. Dark vader and Luth something fight in space? Steve only wished he understood. Maybe then he could have some human fellowship.

The culture was so strange. And it was even more disturbing becuase these where trained men and women. What would people be like in the outside world. The only glimpse he had, had was so foggy becuase he had litrally passed out. But he would adjust, adapt, just like a good soldier is supposed to. At least he hoped.

He lifted himself heavily from the bed and made his way to the door, preparing for another ghastly interaction. He hoped for the best, but he knew it was futile. Leaving the room made him feel free, but chained down by pressure at the same time. he knew he should try to act a certain way, but when it came to it he was still that kid from a busy town. And in that town you are as unimportant as a street rat. The dinning room was a mixture between shiny leather looking furniture, tall, round tables, and dozens of long oak tables lined the rest of the room. 

At least 70 people cluttered the room filling it up only slightly. The agents were given the choice of where to eat, but for Steve he was stuck here with the frankly....... delicious food. There was a buffet set up in the center of the room while a few nonchalant agents scooped up variants of foods. Today it seemed to be a chicken dinner, with a variety of sides. For the last couple of days it had been food he knew, or extravagant food he had heard of but never could afford. Before the war the only food he really ate were the kinds Buc.... that they could cook. Simple soups. Canned foods. Etc.

Steve could hardly beleive not only the technology of the future, but the luxury. He was still waiting to see the flying car though. Howard stark said in just a few years everyone would be driving one. 

Inconspicuously as an age old slept for 70 years, man could be, he silently padded to the line of food. No conversations stopped luckily like it had the very first time he ate a meal in the commons. Most everyone had heard about the crazy occurances of the last few weeks, so when the legendary blond haired! Stocky figure entered the room, it seemed reasonable that the whole room would hold their breath. He was glad that had stopped though. Besides he didn't need all that attention anyway. He didn't want it as a matter a fact

Hastily he scooped up small portions of what seemed good to him and went on his way towards the array of tables. He decided to sit at the one he had for the past 2 days. Third table to the right of the line of food. 

"Hey Steve." One of the agents greeted. He was a tall stocky male, with rugged brown hair. He had been nice to Steve when he had seen him, but since he was terrible with names Steve could never remeber it.

"Hello." Steve replied politely. He analyzed the rest of the group before faceing his head down and scooping up his food in small bites. 

"So what have you been doin' Steve?" A female asked from across the table. Steve fixed his gaze towards her and found another beautiful woman. All the women here were stunning. She had cropped blond hair with a short stout body. He relished in the interaction, But it was slightly disconcerting to have people he didn't know call him by his name.

"Oh I learned how to use..... um a......" he stopped trying to remeber the name of the strange machine. "It....." it was horribly humiliating not being able to remember simple things. "It was a machine you walk on and it moves."

"You mean a treadmill?" A woman asked on his right. 

"Yes." Steve could feel his face warming up. Embaresment was somthing he had gotten far to used too. He turned his face back down to his food and continued to eat quietly. 

"Steve, a few of us are going to go-" the brunette man stopped mid sentence. "Guys we got an alert. It can't wait." He turned to Steve. "You know how it goes Steve." He pointed his thumb towards the door and in a flurry the group departed leaving Steve awkwardly alone. Letting out a long sigh he stood up from his stool,and threw away his trash. That's when he was stopped by a man with sharp blond hair. 

"Hello cap, lets sit down." Steve raised his eye brows at the strange man with a chesire grin plastered on his face.  
-0-0-0-0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Leave your thoughts in the comments. I honestly can't tell if anyone is actually enjoying this. Oh well. I guess I'll die.


	9. Enough is enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is so freaking done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope people are actually enjoying this. Please leave any thoughts you have in the comments. I am really trying to capture Steve and his essence. Putting him in these situations have been interesting. Most of the rest of the story and chapters will take place from his perspective. This truly is a story about Steve.

Chapter 9

Steve shuffled uncomfortably under the man's gaze. He stared at him with an expression of interest and purpose. Like you would see a predator stare at its prey. Steve could easily take this guy on, but with his current expression of sheer determination the blond could tell he would not go down without a hefty tussle. That's not why he was here though. 

"I'm Clint." He smiled and reached his hand out for a greeting. Steve paused for a moment, then he stretched his arm out in compliment to his.

"I'm Steve. But you probably already knew that."

"Ya." Clint chuckled slightly. "I was sent by Natasha." 

"Were you?"

Distant for a moment it seemed as though the man was tempted to snarkily comment,but alas continued on his own vendeta."Anyway she just wanted to apologize for the abrupt leaving of the session. She would have come to tell you herself but she is busy." He kicked back in the leather chairs they were currently sitting in. 

Smiling sheepishly Steve sctrached the back of his neck. "Oh. What's she doing."

"Who knows." He flashed a glare toward him. Then he stood up from the chair. "I would watch yourself rogers. Those kind of questions can lead you to places you don't want to go. Nice chat. I'll be on my way captain." He ended after pointing his finger accusingly at him. 

"Thank you Clint," Steve ducked his head and began to fidget with a loose strand of thread on his pant leg."What a jerk." Steve murmured underneath a heavy sigh.  
-0-0-0-0-0-0

Natasha almost imeadiatly regretted sending Clint to apologize, but james was a mess. After a painful hour of heated silence she had finally calmed him down enough to go to sleep. She knew though that Clint would try to be all fecicious and mysterious. It was simply who he was. Grabbing her phone from her pocket she picked Clint out of her contacts.

N: You talk to him

C: ya. Y?

N: please don't tell me u were an idiot the whole time.

C: would u beleive me if I said no?

N: ur such an idiot. I actually thought you could handle this.

C: what can I say?

Rolling her eyes Natasha pocketed her phone. Clint was the jelous type. Steve was the..... well... American dream. Nothing romantic had ever really happend between them, but Clint was the protective jelous type of anyone he knew.

Natasha fixed her focus down at the sleeping Barnes. Taking a deep breath she stod up from the bed and left the room, closing the door lightly.  
-0-0-0-0-0

Another day, another lesson, another 3 awkward meals. This was his life now. His scheduled, miserable life. Dragging a hand over his miserable features. He had made practically zero strides to better understand Bucky or James.... or whoever he was. Whoever the man was he wasn't his best friend anymore. That would be something that would take time to accept. 

As the days become cooler the frequent of his outside runs had lessened. Soon it would be far to uncomfortable to run in the bitter cold. The tread mill would soon become more than semi permenant, at least for the holiday season. Some days would be so awful though he would force himself out into the small garden and sprint to his hearts content all the while cursing his dastardly, awful siuation. The bare mimimum of information of the new world and the agency itself constantly knack at the back of Steves mind.

Maybe it was the lessons with James and Natasha or maybe it was the lack of a real human connection that pushed him to this, but as Steve restlessly shuffled in his cushy bed an idea popped into his head. 

Escape.

Sitting up from his bed he flipped on the lamp and contemplated the idea, creating a pros and cons list in his head. He had thought about this before but it had never been so clear to him before. All he had to do was get off the grid. Maybe he could find someone to stay with.

Peggy

In the end he was prepared. He would leave, and he would leave tonight. He would leave tonight to find Peggy. It was early in the morning, about 2:15 when he began to pack. Snatching a gym duffel bag provided he stuffed it with all the clothes he had been provided, socks, an extra pair of sneakers. He dug through the room searching for anything helpful, Turns out there was not. Fury really had given him the bare minimum. That's all he would need though. He made sure to tidy the rom before he left. The last thing he did was engine search the name "Peggy Carter". Who knows maybe it would come up with something helpful. Dozens of articles popped up.

Peggy carter a key founder of shield.

Peggy carter marries.

Peggy Carter spends time with her niece.

Peggy carter the model of an American woman.

Peggy carter retires.

Bingo that was the one. He hastily tapped the screen willing for it to open the page quicker. Speeding reading the article it revealed her location

"Peggy carter the renound agent for America finally reveals she is retiring. Though she has been married the widowed agent has informed us that she will be staying at a trusted care center. 

New York City, keystone center. 

Though the choice was not made by her but her niece she-"

 

Last step, he grabbed his coat and swept out of the room.


End file.
